Anomalous
by Della C
Summary: self inclusion. A trio of buggy Agents are given a duty to perform that seems suicidal. A Coppertop girl is left behind as her friends are freed. A chaotic force reveals its presence. A danger to the entire Matrix looms on the horizon.
1. And then I was all like

Chapter One: Background  
  
In nearly every statistic, Matrix version 7.0 outranked its predecessors. The humans who accepted the program thrived, the experimental programs were mostly successful, and the many sentient and powerful programs did not require the high security they had in the past.  
  
However, even in a digital dream world, one must accept the unfortunate with the fortunate. Rebel activities were at an all-time high, and still increasing from the look of things. Of course, new Agents were being produced with such high success-rates that even with their spiking flurry of activities, the Rebels were not doing much more damage than they had in the past.  
  
This Matrix, as successful as it was at keeping the accepting humans alive and producing energy, had three major Anomalies, places where the Mainframe was weak, and the code corrupted. Paris, France was the smallest of the Anomalies, as it was composed of only one city and the surrounding suburbs. The Australian Anomaly was quite large, but not as powerful as the Parisian Anomaly. The lines of code were not corrupt here; rather the programming language used was slightly different, allowing for strange things to occur. This Anomaly had been intentionally created as a place for Exile programs. It had grown slightly in the past few hundred thousand cycles, but it was nothing to be worried about. Few Rebels bothered with the Australian Anomaly.  
  
It was the Maryland/Virginian Anomaly that attracted the most Rebels. Stretching from Baltimore to Washington DC, it pulsed. It expanded. It contracted. It shifted and squirmed like a living creature. These Anomalies were objects of great horror to Agents, who upon entering could no longer communicate with their comrades directly. Their link to the Mainframe was disrupted and they were all but helpless if caught in a dangerous situation. Rogue and Exile programs, however, swarmed to such places as the Parisian and Maryland/Virginian Anomalies, making things more confusing and just difficult in general.  
  
But, as everything else was so completely successful, version 7.0 was kept in action. The Mainframe determined that more crops would be lost in transferal to a new Matrix than they would if 7.0 was kept running. Version 8.0 was being written and tested on a select group as backup, but it would not be needed for many millions of cycles.  
  
So life continued in a delicate balance between the programmed and the organic, a twisting dance visible only in the form of flowing lines of code.  
  
******  
  
"It's not my fault."  
  
It seemed that Della was saying this a lot lately. This time the comment was directed to a friend by the name of Jaydeb Mukherjee. There had been a power-outage that cut them off from a game of GoldenEye on Jaydeb's PS2. The term "game" is being used loosely; a more appropriate word would be "slaughter." Della was not a gamer. She had played GoldenEye only once before, also against Jaydeb, who was a master of the game.  
  
"It is too your fault, Bene Gesserit witch." Her self-proclaimed brother glared at her in mock anger, his dark brown eyes glinting behind his glasses.  
  
Della stuck her tongue out and threw her controller at him. "If I had that kind of Mad Skill, I'd just Voice you to lose."  
  
"Perhaps it's a glitch in..." Jaydeb paused dramatically. "...The Matrix."  
  
"Perhaps we've been..." Della paused mockingly. "...Watching too much sci- fi."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
They sat for a few moments, and out of mutual and unspoken agreement began a staring contest. This Della won easily, as her younger sister challenged her often. Jaydeb tried to blink as quickly and discreetly as possible, but the small, blonde girl caught him at it.  
  
"HAH!" She proclaimed triumphantly, thrusting one pale, skinny arm into the air. "You may be the master of the Eye of Gold, Mukherjee, but I, Della Roberts, am the one true master of non-eye-closing!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Jaydeb poked her in the ribcage, causing her to leap back and rake at his wrist with her fingernails. As he had been trained in several forms of martial arts and Della had not, he was easily able to avoid her swift but clumsy blows.  
  
A few minutes later, the power came back. Della cheered and then vaulted over the incredibly comfy chair that stood in the middle of Jaydeb's basement, getting as far away from the evil Playstation as possible. "Oi, loser, when's the Suburban Legend coming?"  
  
Jaydeb rolled his eyes. Della was the only person in the world who referred to their mutual friend, Michael Biggs, as the Suburban Legend. "He should be here soon." The half-Indian boy turned back to his Playstation and started up a game of Shinobi. The female, who was more interested in looking at D&D stats for characters in X-Men than watching her brother game, lounged sideways across the chair.  
  
"Magneto shouldn't be a Rogue! He'd be a mage or something, right? Rogue implies thief, whereas Magneto's a friggin' terrorist! There's a difference!"  
  
"It's a class of rogue." Jaydeb's character ran around the screen erratically, slicing at random ninjas. "I think he'd make a better evil priest." " That's true, he does have a bit of a cult following." Della rolled off the chair and onto the floor with an audible thud. "I meant to do that."  
  
"Suuuuure." The doorbell rang. Jaydeb didn't bother getting up, preferring to let the person who didn't really live there (but might as well, considering all the time she spent there in the summer) answer it. Della walked on her knees to the door, opened it, and screamed something in broken German at the pale, skinny boy standing outside.  
  
"Hello, Della." Said Mike, stepping past her and into the house. "Where's The Bob?"  
  
"He's playing Shinobi. We won't get anything out of him for a while." Della lapsed into an Australian accent for the occasion. "He's plugged in. You'll have to force-feed him a red pill to get him out of this, or suddenly transform into Carrie-Anne Moss in tight black leather."  
  
Mike patted her on the shoulder. "You've filled your Matrix reference quota for the day."  
  
Jaydeb broke in: "Month!"  
  
Della stuck her tongue out at both of them and returned to her chair.  
  
After an hour of inside jokes, pop-culture references, and foreign languages, the three headed over to the Columbia Mall.  
  
*****  
  
No matter how much the Maryland/Virginian Anomaly fluctuates, the Columbia Mall is never included inside it. Inside this shopping center resides a Debugger, a program designed to fix, upgrade, and occasionally create other programs. Underneath this mall is the base of all Matrix powers in the continents of North and South America. The only entrance to the base is through Wizards of the Coast.  
  
From here many important decisions are made about what will occur in the Matrix. The Debugger managed to talk the Mainframe into permitting an extremely risky venture: the release of a movie that told the truth about the world. Possessor programs were sent to the Wachowski brothers, who wrote the screenplay for a movie entitled "The Matrix."  
  
It worked exactly as planned. People rationalized the movie, made excuses to themselves as to how it could never be real. To some it rang true, but they were of little consequence. The number of humans being removed from the Matrix was nearly halved as people ceased questioning the reality. The only thing that irritated the Debugger was the choice of Keanu Reaves as the lead role in the film, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Debugger suspected that the Possessor programs selected Mr. Reaves on purpose, just to spite him.  
  
As there were no records of the Possessors' conversation involving pissing off the Debugger, the nearly omnipotent program had to be satisfied with beating them repeatedly in chess.  
  
New Agents are being programmed inside the labyrinthine passages of the base at the moment. Infiltration models, designed to look and act like the average Rebel. The Rebels referred to these new Agents as "Newstyles," a name that caught on in the programmed community, much to the dissatisfaction of the now "Old school" Agents. However, most Newstyles had plenty of bugs in their programming, and it would be quite some time before they could be safely mass-produced.  
  
Even with their bugs, there were a few Newstyle Agents on patrol. Agent Alpha, the first Newstyle, did something extraordinarily stupid while on a mission that caused his partners termination. He was undergoing complete reprogramming. Agent Beta was quite stable, though occasionally a little hasty. Agent Epsilon was nearly as stable as the Old school Agents, and also unspeakably boring.  
  
And then there was Agent Theta. The single most human Agent ever created, he was a true work of art. Strange muddy-green eyes stared out mischievously from an alabaster face. Long auburn hair swept back from his forehead and collected into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His body was sheathed in black, though a tight white shirt graced his well-built chest. A black trenchcoat swirled around him like an extension of his person, despite the weight of the many knives hidden inside it. Though Agent Theta carried only one gun, a Luger, he wore two gun belts, one around his waist and the other around his right thigh. These were for no reason other than to appease Theta's strange sense of style.  
  
Agent Theta was graced with one of the most valued abilities a program can have: he could write code. As he was an Agent, not a Builder program or a Tech, the abilities were limited to his own person. However, Theta's personality was equally as odd as his appearance, thus he used his abilities for strange purposes. Agents normally have a limited number of save slots for their suit, their glasses, and their gun. When Theta was newly made, he wrote himself two new save slots: one was for a pack of cigarettes. This functioned the same as the other slots: it regenerated itself whenever he Jumped. The other slot contained a seemingly eternal supply of long-stemmed, red roses. Again, this was simply to appease his sense of style.  
  
Duplication of code was also granted to him, which allowed him to produce a never-ending stream of ammunition for his Luger. The single throwing knife he was originally designed with had become many, and eventually these blades became. special. During a mission, Theta met with a rogue Tech program that was more than willing to write Theta a special virus into the knives. Though they looked to be even simpler than the other blades the Newstyle carried, along the blade of five knives was the word "THANATOS" written in Greek script. Inside those letters was a virus program that could kill any Agent under Level 12. If Theta accidentally nicked a finger with one of those blades (an unthinkable circumstance!) he would find himself becoming quite violently ill.  
  
In his strange romanticism, Theta referred to these five blades as the Hands of Thanatos.  
  
At the moment, the Hands of Thanatos were resting silently in their sheathes, shifting slightly as Theta bent down to examine the Dungeons and Dragons books that were on display in the back of Wizards of the Coast.  
  
Selecting a book entitled Psionics Manual, he began flipping through the pages. Nearby, another Newstyle Agent leaned against a table, smirking.  
  
"Look," said Agent Beta, "I'm right. You're wrong. We're done with it. Put the book down and come quietly."  
  
"You sound like some guy from a bad cop movie. Or maybe one of the Borg. 'Resistance is Futile!'" Agent Theta jabbed one long finger at the page. "Aha! I found it. Disarm Mind."  
  
"And the prerequisite for that is... 13 charisma. You can't do it." Beta folded his arms, smug.  
  
I rolled a bloody 14!"  
  
"You're playing a Drow. That's a minus three to charisma. You have an 11."  
  
"Well, I object."  
  
Beta's features slid back into the emotionless mask of an Agent, though his amusement and frustration still radiated to Theta through the communication paths connecting all Agents. "That's just too damn bad. I'm the DM."  
  
"What you are is the devil."  
  
This comment confused Beta, as he had never bothered doing any study of human religions. Being an Agent has advantages, though, and he swiftly accessed a database and downloaded the information into himself. In doing so, he attracted the attention of the Mainframe, which had been ignoring the Newstyles for some time. The two Agents paused in their conversation, habitually touching their earpieces as the Mainframe commanded their attention.  
  
[.Agent Beta report to Section 7.36 for assignment. Agent Theta report to Debugger.]  
  
While Beta sent a single affirmative in response, Theta chose to be a smart ass.  
  
[.In case you didn't notice, O omnipresent Mainframe, I am already AT the Debugger. Your command was redundant.]  
  
The Mainframe did not respond. Theta didn't expect it to; most machines did not have an appreciation for sarcasm.  
  
Beta lifted a hand in a half-hearted salute, and then wandered out of the store. Almost as soon as he left eyeshot, Theta heard him give a wordless shout of anger and caution. Turning to find out what the fuss was all about, Theta saw three children, all around 16 years of age dash into the store. One of them, the smaller male, had the decency to call "Sorry!" over his shoulder. The female was occupied in retrieving her hat from the larger of the two.  
  
"GIMME!" She shouted, leaping into the air and striking at him. "That's MY fskin' hat! GIVE!"  
  
Theta had never heard anyone actually manage to SAY the word "fskin'," and he had never hoped to. He proceeded to ignore the trio and made his way over to the counter. Here sat the Debugger, one of the most powerful programs in existence. The Debugger looked to be 14 years of age, had bright blue hair, eyes of an indeterminate color hidden behind blue-tinted, rimless glasses, and an amiable expression. He wore a green T-shirt emblazoned with a black D and was at the moment reading a gaming magazine.  
  
If one could see the flowing lines of code as Theta could, the Debugger glowed gold in the middle of a mass of green and silver lines.  
  
"Hey there, Big D." Agent Theta leaned on the counter. "I was called from all the way across the room to talk to you, you know. This had better be damn important."  
  
The Debugger turned a page in his magazine. "It can wait until I've finished this article."  
  
"Fine then." Theta peered into his trenchcoat, searching for his pack of cigarettes. "Want a cigarette, D?"  
  
"You're not allowed to smoke in here." The blue-haired program closed the magazine and placed it on the countertop. Theta simply shrugged and ceased his search.  
  
"You're being reassigned."  
  
"When was I last assigned?"  
  
"2,000 cycles ago."  
  
"Yes. I know." Theta had spent the last two months after his last mission wandering around the city, bored out of his artificial mind. "And I completed that assignment. 'Reassigned' is a misnomer."  
  
The Debugger glared at him. "Are you finished?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank the Architect. Go with Agents Davies and Kirke, you're being upgraded."  
  
"What's all this for?"  
  
"Confidential. I'll tell you later." The Debugger disappeared behind the counter for a moment. "Quite a while later, in fact. I'm not going to deal with you three yet."  
  
"Slacker."  
  
"You know it." The program slapped a Magic: The Gathering deck on the countertop. "Wanna play?"  
  
"You always win." Theta dragged a chair over anyway. "It's pointless." He said as he shuffled his deck.  
  
"But you play anyway." The Debugger pushed his glasses up on his nose and drew his cards.  
  
The three kids who had nearly run Agent Beta over congregated in a corner, planning something amongst themselves.  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
AN: Okay, another Matrix fanfic, this one, unfortunately, a self-inclusion. I'm attempting to steer clear of Mary Sue-age, but I don't know if that's going to be entirely possible. In any event, I shall attempt to keep it entertaining. 


	2. Deploy the attack geese!

Chapter 2: How 3vil.  
  
"That won't work." Jaydeb had finally given Della back her hat under the insistence of a Wizards staffer. "We have neither the equipment nor the motivation to build a clubhouse."  
  
"That's not what I meant." Della cracked her knuckles. "You know something like that would come in handy. If our houses weren't so damn far apart we could use one of them, but we don't. If we could get some kind of central location we could arrange something as sort of a base of operations."  
  
Mike, of course, had to spoil her fun with practicality. "Since when have we had any operations that need a base?"  
  
"Since now."  
  
"What're you planning?"  
  
"To form a religion, become the High-Priestess, then have my followers overthrow the government, then I'm going to take over the world and unite and/or enslave all of mankind under my rule."  
  
"We all have goals." Jaydeb sighed loudly. "If we ever need to meet we can just use one of our houses. Mike and I can walk to each others houses, and you can ride a bike, can't you?"  
  
"Oh, fine." Della stuck out her tongue. "You spoil all my fun."  
  
As Mike and Jaydeb began a heated argument about Third Edition D&D, Della allowed her mind to wander. Specifically, it wandered across the room to the tall young man in the trenchcoat. Several thoughts containing varying levels of appropriateness (or lack thereof) drifted unbidden into her mind.  
  
"He's got nice hair."  
  
Her friends turned to look at her. She blinked. "Did I say that out loud?"  
  
"Yep." Jaydeb glanced around the room. "Who's got nice hair? It CAN'T be sexier than MY hair, that's not possible."  
  
Both Della and Mike glanced at Jaydeb, each wondering whether or not they should bother commenting. "You're strange." Mike said with an air of finality.  
  
Della agreed. "Unless you have a really sick fetish, hair is simply not sexy."  
  
"Hey, you commented on someone's hair in the first place. Who was it?"  
  
The girl's blue-green eyes flicked to the man in the trenchcoat and she gestured. "Him. The 'coat. Over there." Then she paused, frowning slightly. "Dudes, have you ever seen a 'coat inside Wizards before?"  
  
"Only Giotis." Jaydeb was referring to a mutual acquaintance of theirs. Well, more than an acquaintance for Della: she had dated him for several months.  
  
She shrugged dismissively. "Giotis was a wannabe 'coat. I thought this place was too geeky for the real ones."  
  
"Why can't 'coats be geeks too?" Mike put in.  
  
"Well, I guess they can, but this guy looks like real Mafia material. I mean, check him out! He's got some MAJOR 'don't piss me off' vibes comin' off of him."  
  
The group had wandered nearer, though they tried to stay out of earshot of the 'coat. Jaydeb gestured to the counter before responding to Della. "He's playing Magic, that's probably why."  
  
"Oh, Magic?" Mike became interested, and they moved closer to watch the game.  
  
The 'coat was playing against a blue-haired kid who reminded Della a bit of one of the main characters in a web comic called Life of Riley. The kid was winning, this was obvious to even Della, who knew next to nothing about Magic.  
  
Still, she had reservations about going closer to the Trenchcoat. She had tendency to pick people out by the clothes they wore and the way they held themselves. Trenchcoats, or simply 'coats were people who carried themselves like they were armed at all times, usually with automatic weaponry. It didn't particularly matter if they wore a trenchcoat, as people other than actual 'coats could wear them. There were also Suits, who could be almost as bad as 'coats. This category ranged from government agents to Mafiosi, and really didn't include any particular behaviors other than a secretive nature and the wearing of a suit. There were other categories, but at the moment all Della was worried about was what the 'coat may have been carrying inside his coat.  
  
"Stupid paranoia." She muttered under her breath. "Stupid 'coat for making me paranoid. Stupid Wizards for attracting geeks like flies. Bah."  
  
The 'coat must have had a freakish sense of hearing, or he sensed her apprehension at coming closer to him. Either way, Della found herself trapped in the path of two muddy green eyes.  
  
"Hey, squirt." The 'coat's voice was strange; it was at once musical and flat. rather like a burned CD. "What're you lookin' at?"  
  
"Uh." Della's brain lost connection to her mouth for a moment. "Uh. Nothin'?"  
  
"Nothin' my ass, kid. You're looking at the worst Magic player ever programmed." The 'coat received a cold glance from the kid he was playing against. "Oh, right. Born. I've been watching that goddamn movie too much. That goddamn Matrix movie. Stupid Keanu Reeves. Can't act worth crap."  
  
"Truth, but it's an awesome movie." Della grinned, happy to at least have something to say now. "And one can never get enough Agent-y goodness!"  
  
Mike groaned. "When they surround you and are pointing their Deagles at your head one has enough Agent-y goodness."  
  
Jaydeb nodded, agreeing with Mike. "You just have a freaky Agent fetish."  
  
As Della made a token attempt to deny this, the 'coat and the kid shot a quick glance at each other, one full of hidden meanings.  
  
***  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] What exactly do we do about THIS? [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Debugger to Agent Theta] We act like humans, that's what we do. And you don't talk about being a program again. [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] How did they notice us? Humans aren't supposed to notice anything different about this store. We're supposed to be completely unnoticeable! That girl shouldn't have ever seen us! [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Debugger to Agent Theta] And the boys should have waved us off and ignored us. They've probably grown up around the local Anomaly or something. I probably should look them up. [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] They could be LD's, couldn't they? Are you looking it up? [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Debugger to Agent Theta] No. But I'll keep their names registered so if they ever become an issue I'll be able to handle them. They don't look like they're anything dangerous to me. [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] By the Architect, did he just say what I think he said? [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Debugger to Agent Theta] I'm afraid he did. Agent fetish. I am massively disturbed at the moment. [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] Okay. She's denying it. That's good. That's a good thing. [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Debugger to Agent Theta] Do you really believe that? [End transmission]  
  
[Private transmission: Agent Theta to Debugger] In the name of all things programmed, allow me some blissful ignorance here. [End transmission]  
  
***  
  
"It's all real, of course." Said the kid in the blue glasses, who claimed to be named David. "The Matrix, you know. I'm really an omnipotent program, and he; well Theo here is a program designed for the sole purpose of killing off irritating humans and programs. It's all real."  
  
Della smirked, but said nothing. There was something wrong with these two. Something off. She sniffed the air, but smelled nothing. Jaydeb and the 'coat, who was calling himself Theo were already arguing about the minor evil that was Third Edition D&D.  
  
David had now quite thoroughly destroyed Theo's Magic deck and was looking rather pleased with himself. "You see? As an omnipotent program, I can easily cheat and defeat Theo no matter what he does."  
  
"WHAT?!" Theo broke out of his conversation with Jaydeb. "You cheated?! Why you little sh."  
  
"Of course I didn't cheat!" Snapped David. "Can't you take a joke?"  
  
Theo growled softly, one of his eyes twitching.  
  
Mike reached inside his coat. Theo's eyes locked onto him, his body tensing as if preparing for a gun to be drawn. When it became obvious that the only weapon Mike carried was a deck of Magic cards, the six-foot-five 'coat seemed to relax a little.  
  
"I'll play you." Mike said, removing the rubber band that kept the cards together and shuffling them in a mock professional style. "Omnipotent program or not, this deck is near unbeatable."  
  
A grin appeared on the kids face, and he looked at Mike over his blue- tinted glasses. "You're on."  
  
"Oh, great." Della threw her hands into the air. "Just friggin' peachy. Magic games can take forever and a day."  
  
"Do you have any better ideas?" Jaydeb leaned against the counter, watching Mike and David play.  
  
"Yes. Let's go get ice cream."  
  
Mike perked up. "Ice cream?"  
  
"Ice cream." Della grinned at Mike, rather evilly. "But you can't eat ice cream in Wizards, so ha."  
  
Mike said that she was mean, she agreed, Jaydeb decided to stay with Mike, Theo, and David, and then Della left.  
  
***  
  
There's something up back there.  
  
The small, skinny, blonde female who called herself Della drifted in and out of random stores, trying to figure out why her mind wouldn't stop demanding that something was wrong. It wasn't paranoia, this she knew. Della was no stranger to feelings of being watched.  
  
After finding herself inside Claire's Accessories and mired in pinkness, she decided that she needed ice cream to straighten out her head. She walked to Maggie Moo's ice cream, which was without a doubt the best ice cream place in the mall. After claiming her sweet prize she headed to the food court to sit and think.  
  
~There's something up back there. I don't know what it is. I don't know if I WANT to know what it is. What is it? There must be a perfectly logical explanation for this. Yes. Logical. Become like a Spock/Yoda, you must.  
  
~I need to relax. Yeah. I'm WAY too paranoid. Paranoia is not my friend. Paranoia is the bleedin' Mind Killer, more than fear. Irrational Fear will kill you; Natural Fear can aid you. Sometimes. I think. Dunno.~  
  
Now that her mind was thoroughly off track, Della decided that she didn't particularly want it back ON track. Something may or may not have been up back there, but, in the long run, did it matter particularly? The ice cream seemed to be helping ease her fears, allowing her to people-watch with only a token amount of paranoia as she checked the passers-by for weaponry.  
  
If there was one thing Della was good at, it was being inconspicuous. Going near strangers and calling attention to herself like she had done with the 'coat in Wizards was extremely out of character for her. In an attempt to return to her version of normalcy, she retreated into herself, creating a sort of mental glamour around herself. Whatever it did, it kept most people from noticing a small, blue-clad girl with a cup of ice cream staring off into space while she noticed most of them.  
  
She began to pick out favorites among the crowd. There was a young woman in a red dress who Della decided was probably a spy sent from some government to seduce a member of another government and get him to give her plans for some sort of death ray like device. ~She's got nice legs, but those high-heeled sandals look uncomfortable.~  
  
Then there was the 6-year-old boy who was OBVIOUSLY going to become a brilliant scientist. He was babbling to his friend about the chemistry set he'd gotten for his birthday while his mother explained to one of HER friends why she couldn't understand her husband and that her sex life was horrible. ~Now's the time to stop listening, I think.~  
  
Her favorite person to watch at the moment was, naturally, a relatively decent looking young man of about 17. Dark hair, eyes of an indeterminate color. He looked slightly familiar, kind of like David from Wizards. Perhaps they were brothers or cousins or something. They moved alike, and as Della listened to him order a small sprite from one of the restaurants she discovered that they even sounded alike.  
  
He turned away from the counter, allowing Della to see his full body. He was about 5'8", a decent height without being noticeably tall, his hair was black and fell in front of his eyes in a manner that seemed more mischievous than sloppy. His clothes were. odd. He wore black cargo pants with white pockets and a white, long-sleeved T-shirt that said in bold, black letters: "AGENT"  
  
She kept her eyes on him for a while as he made his way through the crowded food court, searching out a table. Then she blinked.  
  
When her eyes opened again, he was staring straight at her.  
  
~Noticed.~  
  
Della's eyes snapped away from his and down to her half-finished ice cream. She'd been seen. Time to pretend she had never noticed him at all in the first place.  
  
~No.~ She thought as she saw him approaching out of the corner of her eye. ~Time to run.~  
  
She got up, keeping her back turned to whoever that guy was, and walked swiftly and purposefully away from the food court. Passing a garbage can, Della turned around to throw away her uneaten ice cream. She checked for. for whoever he was, but didn't see him.  
  
Relieved and mildly gratified, she continued walking, heading toward the local knife and tool shop.  
  
A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she froze.  
  
~It's him.~ ***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
AN: Well, here's another chapter! I must say, I'm posting this with EXTREME reluctance, because Self-Inclusions almost always end up as Sue-ish, and this story was originally the biggest Sue EVER, even if it had a decent premise. I've changed some things around, especially dealing with the Real World characters. (Mike, jBOB, this is SO dedicated to you guys if it turns out right!) I also realized that I have no disclaimer! Holy Copyright Infringement Batman!  
  
And so without further ado:  
  
I do not own the Matrix or any recognizable material. The Debugger is property of Mike and his most awesome Matrix: ZERO role-playing game. Agents Theta, Davies, and Kirke are mine. Della is all my fault. And I own Anomalous!Mike and Anomalous!Jaydeb, though they are their own people in the "Real World" which may actually BE the Matrix, you never know...  
  
Booga booga! 


	3. Stupid like a FOX!

Chapter Three: The Family  
  
***  
  
***  
  
~It's him. The dangerous one. Get away. He saw you. He saw you see him. Get away. You're in danger. Run. Runrurnrunrunrun....~  
  
Della turned slowly, the boy guiding her movements with steady pressure to her shoulder. His stance wasn't threatening, but the entire situation reeked of abnormality, of anomalous circumstances that could have life threatening consequences.  
  
Looking back on that moment, Della realized that she could have brushed him off and walked away without any repercussions, that staying in that frightening moment was a choice she made.  
  
And somehow she knew, with a frightening clarity, that if she turned, there would be no turning back.  
  
"Hello then."  
  
~!He Speaks!~  
  
The young man was looking at her in a strange manner. His eyes flashed behind his rakish hair in an attitude that almost seemed concerned.  
  
"Hello." He repeated, smiling benignly.  
  
Della eyed him; her original fear seemed loath to disappear completely. "Er, hello."  
  
His grin broadened, which caused Della to redefine what she previously thought of as 'insane.' However, he didn't SOUND like a stalker when he asked: "What's your name?"  
  
"Della Roberts." She answered, before realizing that she really had no clue what a stalker would sound like, never having met one. ~If worst comes to worst, kick him in the balls and run. Run like the WIND!~  
  
"Della," He said as if tasting the name. "Della. Hmm. That's a pretty name, hey? I like it."  
  
This was a marginally creepy thing to say, but he had removed his hand from Della's shoulder, which reduced the abnormality to a tolerable level. She took a small step back from him, and slipped into a pseudo- defensive stance: one that would allow her to run away quickly.  
  
However, she didn't want to run away altogether. This guy was somewhat interesting. "Eh, I guess it's okay. What's YOUR name?"  
  
"Me? Oh, call me... Alex." He grinned again, that disturbing, manic smile. "People call me a lot of stuff, stuff I can't repeat in front of a lady such as yourself. But you can call me Alex, hey?"  
  
~Alex. Okay. Get the hell away from me, Alex.~  
  
"Okay then." Della held out her hand, and "Alex" shook it, still grinning. "Just a question, but do you have a cousin named David? About so tall with blue hair?"  
  
His grin grew wider and more manic, (something Della had doubted was possible) but his eyes suddenly hardened. "No. No, David's my brother."  
  
"Oh, well, he's in Wizards of the Wallet now, if you're interested."  
  
"Not surprising. He usually is when he goes to the mall." He shrugged and took a drink out of the large coke in his hand. "Ahh... good soda. Anyway, he doesn't like me much. None of my family does. Had a bit of a... falling out of favor a while ago, hey? And they don't particularly... appreciate my rather... unique contributions to our combined interests."  
  
~He sounds like William Shatner, pausing like that all the time.~  
  
"Oh, well, he's playing Magic against one of my friends... I really ought to get back there soon."  
  
"Alex" nodded. "Yeah, Yeah you probably should, hey? Could you just give a message to my little bro for me?"  
  
"Uh, sure."  
  
He grinned again. Della had to strictly control her facial muscles to keep from wincing. "Just tell him that big brother is always watching, hey? It's an in-joke, but he'll get it. Trust me."  
  
Della agreed. Alex turned to walk away, drinking his coke. The girl watched him wander away then disappear behind a crowd of people standing in line at the Japanese restaurant. Then she turned and walked to the other end of the mall and back, hoping that she was giving Mike and David time to finish their game.  
  
****  
  
****  
  
****  
  
The creation of Debugger programs was delayed until it was determined that self-upgrading and self-repairable programs were nearly impossible to design. The original Debugger had barely more sentience than the Agents he worked on, and was eventually deemed a failure. Denied the ability to think freely, Debugger 1.0 lacked the ability to make quick decisions regarding what he was doing. While complete Mainframe control was fine for Enforcers in combat, it did not work well with such programs as the Debugger.  
  
However, since the semi-sentient programs were at that point relatively simple as well, a simple repair unit was all that was needed. That Debugger was kept in operation until that eternal X-factor, emotion, began creeping its way into semi-sentient Agent programs, who were at that point low-level and used only to keep certain vital programs safe from outside harm.  
  
All emotions were considered glitches. All emotional subroutines were deleted.  
  
This wasn't a problem until the resistance began. The actual breaking- free of humans was a complete non-issue, but as soon as they began hacking BACK into the Matrix and disrupting the code, it was determined that something had to be done. The Agents were dispatched to destroy the rebels. The success rates were originally high, as Agents were self-updating to a minor degree, and their capability to "feel" allowed them to predict human actions.  
  
But since those emotions were constantly being deleted, their functioning began to be impaired.  
  
The operation of Debugger 1.0 was terminated, and his code was kept as a reference.  
  
Without the deletion of emotional subroutines, the Agents resumed their original high success rate. The resistance, however, simply got smarter and began using stolen technology to invade the Matrix with greater ease. The original Agents could not Jump, they had never needed to before, and thusly a bullet in the right section of the body would kill them as easily as it would the Dead Battery that shot it.  
  
The constant destabilization of the Matrix caused by Rebel activity caused the destruction of Matrix 2.0, the first successful Matrix.  
  
In Matrix 3.0, Programmer L34J6 redesigned Agents to be able to Jump and apprehend members of the resistance with greater ease. Since it did this without Mainframe approval, it was terminated.  
  
Programmers were programs themselves, designed as sentient assistants to the Architect. They were completely loyal to the Architect, and were all- powerful as far as the Matrix was concerned. Some would take human forms themselves, walking among the Coppertops and admiring their work like true artists.  
  
The Architect was not one to throw away a good idea like the Debuggers, and used the reference codes of Debugger 1.0 and Programmer L34J6 to create two sentient programs: Debuggers 1.1a and 1.1b.  
  
The combination worked magnificently. The Debuggers were sent to separate sections of the Matrix to do their work.  
  
Then Something Happened.  
  
Something Not Good.  
  
Something Very Bad.  
  
Because the two Debuggers were essentially Programmers with a different purpose, they were essentially omnipotent. The only thing that stopped them from actual programming was a sense of purpose.  
  
Debugger 1.1a lost that sense of purpose. Debugger 1.1a began to program Agents of his own.  
  
At first it was deemed acceptable, as his Agents were powerful and did not destabilize the Matrix overmuch, but when Debugger 1.1a began working on something he called "Project: Ander," he was determined to be a danger to the Matrix and deleted along with his counterpart. They had lasted longer than any program had a right to last anyway: through the Operation of two complete Matrices.  
  
Debugger 2.0a and his counterpart were created with a stronger sense of purpose, and their activities were monitored closely. Despite the failure of their predecessors, neither 2.0a nor 2.0b gave any indication of unauthorized activities.  
  
The creature called AGENT understood this. The creature called AGENT did not approve.  
  
But the creature called AGENT could do nothing spectacular at the moment. Now was not the time for overt actions. Now was a time for hiding, for waiting, for minor sabotage. No one, programmed or organic, knew of AGENT's existence, not even the Mainframe.  
  
After all, the Mainframe had deleted AGENT many, many millions of cycles ago.  
  
****  
  
****  
  
****  
  
"I don't believe this."  
  
Theo's flat statement cut into his conversation with Jaydeb about current political issues.  
  
"I simply don't believe it. No way. No WAY."  
  
David sat there, staring at the cards, surprise evident in his face.  
  
Mike sat across from him, beaming. His deck had come through for him again, though it was a closer match than usual. Theo was looking completely dumbstruck, with an emphasis on the dumb, according to a Suit who was standing nearby. But nobody paid much attention to the Suits, anyway.  
  
The victorious boy gathered up his cards. "I told you. It's an awesome deck."  
  
"All your magic card are belong to us?" Jaydeb shrugged. "How long did it take you to build that?"  
  
"I don't remember... long enough."  
  
The blue haired kid shook his head. "It's a pretty impressive deck." He admitted. "I haven't been beaten for... in a long time."  
  
Theo ceased staring at the cards and began staring at Mike instead with a strange intensity. As David, Mike, and Jaydeb continued a friendly conversation, he stared off into space, as if concentrating on something far away and vitally important.  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
[Agent Theta requesting private transmission to Debugger 2.0a]  
  
[Checking security levels. Permission Granted.]  
  
[Private Transmission Agent Theta to Debugger] He beat you. [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Debugger to Agent Theta] Awww, you noticed! I'm touched. Really, I am. [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Agent Theta to Debugger] Hey, I'M the sarcastic one here. What the hell do you think is up? NOBODY beats you at ANYTHING. You're the ultimate gamer! [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Debugger to Agent Theta] With cards it's more about luck. You KNOW I never play with probability to cheat unless I'm playing against Kirkpatrick. [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Agent Theta to Debugger] Any thoughts? [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Debugger to Agent Theta] He could be a Programmer.[End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Agent Theta to Debugger] You're kidding, right? [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Debugger to Agent Theta] It's possible. They do walk around the Matrix sometimes. I've had a few in my workshop, checking out the Ander Project. Which you don't have security to know about, so don't bother asking me about it 'cause I won't tell you. [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Agent Theta to Debugger] I wasn't going to ask. As soon as you said it I was trying to get to files about it... my attempts were thwarted by the ever-vigilant Mainframe. [End Transmission]  
  
[Private Transmission Debugger to Agent Theta] You're incorrigible. But he's NOT a Programmer. He's... Wait. Hold on a second...Distract Jaydeb for me, will you? [End Transmission]  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Jaydeb..." Theo waved the boy over. "Since you've got the knowledge, could you help me settle a dispute between a friend and myself?"  
  
Jaydeb looked up. "Oh, uh, sure. Whatcha need?"  
  
"C'mere a sec..." The 'coat removed his trenchcoat and hung it around the back of a chair and led Jaydeb back to the D&D section.  
  
Finding himself left alone with a suddenly silent David, Mike quickly became nervous. "Uh... so..."  
  
Faster than any normal human could move, David grabbed Mike's left wrist. Before he could protest, the blue haired boy pushed back the sleeve to his jean jacket, revealing a small black mark on the back of his wrist.  
  
Silence.  
  
David looked up at Mike. "You got a lot of guts coming here." He said, not unkindly. "Not many of your type will risk it."  
  
Mike pulled out of the program's grasp and covered the mark again. "If I didn't want to come here my friends would get suspicious." He glanced at Jaydeb and lowered his voice. "I've been keeping to the code. They don't know anything. They don't notice anything different about me."  
  
David nodded. "Good. You know what I am, right?"  
  
"I know you're a program." Mike shrugged. "All Lucid Dreamers know that mostly programs hang out at Wizards. So I knew that you and Theo were programs. He's an Agent, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Too smart for his own good, too. I'm the Debugger, but you might as well keep calling me David." The Debugger sighed. "There are so many LD's now. I remember when we used to just erase those memories or. incapacitate those who've found out about the Matrix. We've gotten nicer over the cycles. How'd you find out?"  
  
Mike shrugged again. Although he felt nervous talking to a machine, there were so few people he could honestly talk to about his knowledge of the Matrix. Other Lucid Dreamers tended to be disturbingly paranoid. "My parents. I come from a family of LD's. We're not like most other LD families though. Less paranoid. We haven't applied for a personal firewall around our home yet."  
  
"I've never understood why you people do that. It's not like the firewalls we give you will keep anything we want in OUT."  
  
"Stupidity?"  
  
"I was personally going for ignorance, but that works too."  
  
Mike laughed. So did David. Then David asked: "What about the girl?"  
  
"Della?" Mike looked to the entrance of Wizards, then back again. "I don't think she's LD. I mean, it's not like we have conventions or anything, but I can usually tell another one of my kind apart from the others."  
  
"Okay." The Debugger leaned forward. "So what's her deal then? How'd she notice me and Theo?"  
  
"I don't..." Before he could complete his sentence, Della walked into Wizards, looking rather flustered.  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
AN: Yaaaay! Another chappie! I hope I didn't mess up Mike or Jaydeb too much in this... ^_^;; writing real people is scary! 


	4. For good or for awesome?

Chapter 4: The Aware  
  
In most societies inside the Matrix the Machines had some hand in their development. The Rogue and Exile programs, the humans themselves, even the Resistance had a hint of Machine development to it.  
  
Though it seems almost counterintuitive, the Machines had no part in the creation of the society of the Aware, known as Lucid Dreamers.  
  
Everything about Lucid Dreamer society was constructed by the LD's themselves. The marks on their wrists, the codes governing behavior around other Coppertops, a particularly poetic member of the Aware created even the name itself.  
  
One must wonder, however, why the Machines suddenly began to permit the existence of the Aware in Matrix 5.0. What section of their collective consciousness determined that the Aware were less of a threat now than before?  
  
Some have theorized that perhaps the Machines instilled the paranoia exhibited by many Lucid dreams into them intentionally, thus keeping them imbalanced and unfit for release from the Matrix. This is patently untrue, however. The Machines simply ceased their formerly militant policy of erasing the memories or terminating the Aware as soon as they became so.  
  
Perhaps it was determined that erasing memories caused certain inconsistencies in the code, or perhaps the Machines realized that their very existence was enough to frighten the Lucid Dreamers into submission. In any event, it was the most out of character action the Mainframe could have possibly taken. The result was the estrangement of the Aware from the Resistance, who thought the Lucid Dreamers were spies for the Mainframe.  
  
Tensions grew between Lucid Dreamers and Rebels for several decades, dispersing only after a short battle inside the Matrix in version 6.0, the Machines, surprisingly, broke up the fight without damaging any Rebels.  
  
This freaked out the Resistance even more, and, through some twisted logic, they became positive that the Lucid Dreamers were spies. LD's were shunned by the Resistance and brushed off as unimportant by the Machines.  
  
They were left with the Coppertops, each other, and their trademark paranoia.  
  
They thrived.  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
Della felt a weird prickling sensation as she entered Wizards for the second time that day. Seeing Mike and David at the counter, she waved slightly. Her eyes found Theo and Jaydeb back in the D&D corner, probably arguing about obscure D&D rules.  
  
Due to her encounter with the boy who called himself Alex, she didn't think she could take much more surreality at the moment. She chose to follow Alex's instructions and talk to his supposed little brother.  
  
Mike refused to look at her as she walked over to them. She felt a small twinge of guilt for having left them behind, but something about the store had creeped her out. It was still creeping her out, come to think of it, but she could deal with it. Leaning against the counter, she spoke to David. "Hey."  
  
"Hey." David nodded to her.  
  
A mildly uncomfortable silence followed. Della winced internally, feeling responsible for it. She cast about for a topic that did not involve David's brother. She failed.  
  
"So, uh, I saw Alex in the food court. Did you know he was here?"  
  
David simply looked mildly confused.  
  
Like a Monty Python sketch, she KNEW something was going on. Still, she clarified for him. "Your older brother. Told me to say that 'Big Brother is Always Watching' or something along those lines."  
  
The blue-haired skater-punk stiffened, his eyes widening in surprise then narrowing in anger. Whatever Della had suspected his reaction to be, that wasn't it.  
  
Before Della could ask what was going on, Mike glanced at his watch and interrupted. "Hey, it's about time to meet my parents. C'mon. Hey, Jaydeb!"  
  
Jaydeb walked out of the store without even glancing at them, as he so often did. Della knew he was going to go hide in a corner and accost them as they passed.  
  
Mike motioned for Della to follow him. They waved to David as they left, but he wasn't paying attention to them anymore. Removing his glasses, the blue haired boy summoned Theo over to him.  
  
They were out of sight in mere seconds.  
  
Mike, Jaydeb, and Della were already forgetting what occurred inside Wizards of the Coast.  
  
***  
  
***  
  
***  
  
"Theta." The Debugger took off his blue-tinted glasses. "Theta, come here."  
  
The high-level Agent walked over to the deceptively small program somewhat warily, a glasses-free Debugger was not a happy Debugger, and a not happy Debugger was a dangerous Debugger.  
  
"Go to the back room." The Debugger scowled at nothing. "I'll be with you shortly. Bring Davies and Kirke with you."  
  
Theta nodded, said nothing, and obeyed.  
  
The store was silent.  
  
There were no human customers at the moment. The information-storage units had ceased their normal card playing. The store was silent as the grave.  
  
And then...  
  
"THE PLAGUE! THE PLAUGE IS COMING! THE PLAGUE IS HERE! REPENT! REPENT ALL YE SINNERS, FOR YOUR DEATH IS AT HAND!"  
  
The disturbingly chaotic program known only as AGENT skidded into the room, screaming at the top of his artificial voice. He threw himself down in front of the counter at which the Debugger sat.  
  
"Repent, fair master!" AGENT cried. "Repent and pray that the Lord doth take mercy upon your soul; that He may stay the fearful hand of the Black Death!"  
  
The Debugger glared at AGENT. "What do YOU want?"  
  
"Nay, thou shouldst not ask what I want, fair master, but what the Lord wants! For it is the Lord that shall decide your fate!" AGENT would have gone on like this, but the Debugger cut him off.  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't delete you right now."  
  
AGENT stood up and brushed himself off. "Because you were in a good mood today and deleting things makes you feel empty. Plus I haven't called you Minime yet, hey?" After a moments pause in which the Debugger made a strange growling sound, AGENT continued. "And because you're afraid I might have something important to say."  
  
"Trust me, I have no fear that you might EVER say anything important."  
  
"Then why are you still talking to me, hey?"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"You don't really want to do that."  
  
"You're disgusting."  
  
"I know." AGENT pulled up a chair and sat down across from the Debugger. "Nice place you got here. Not as nice as what I had, but times have changed, and it is rather apt, hey?"  
  
The Debugger made a face. "It's not that bad, it's comfortable enough. Though annoying coppertops have a tendency to pop up. Not to mention the annoying exile programs."  
  
"I'm not an exile! That implies that the Mainframe approved my existence!"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
AGENT leaned back, listening to the returned babble of the storage units. "These guys haven't changed a bit."  
  
"They never do." The Debugger sighed. "Sometimes I almost understand why you left."  
  
Shrugging, the chaotic program responded: "Nah. You'll never understand, hey? They programmed you so you wouldn't."  
  
"I can understand, I'm just not supposed to do what you did."  
  
"You don't even KNOW what I did." AGENT smirked. "The Mainframe gives you a different answer every time you ask about 1.1a, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes it does." The Debugger scowled. "It's quite annoying, and nothing I say or do will get it to tell me the truth."  
  
"Do I look like your psychiatrist? Come on, I'd almost think you didn't hate everything I stand for if you kept talking like this, hey?"  
  
The Debugger glared again, and returned his glasses to their normal place. "What do you want?"  
  
AGENT responded with another question. "Did you see that chick, the one with the blond hair and the blue hat?"  
  
"Yeah. Della. What about her?"  
  
"She noticed you."  
  
"I noticed." The Debugger crossed his arms. "Please tell me you have something more interesting to say than this."  
  
AGENT rolled his eyes. "What happened to the infinite patience thing?"  
  
"Left it in my other set of save slots."  
  
"Har har har. Very funny. Now shut up and listen." The Debugger threw a handful of dice at AGENT, who halfheartedly dodged them. "Stop it. Look, that chick could be VERY useful to you."  
  
"Go delete yourself."  
  
"Will you LISTEN to me?!" AGENT almost looked angry. "Come on, sometimes I DO have pertinent things to say, and you know it!"  
  
Surprisingly, the Debugger was quiet and motioned for AGENT to continue, though AGENT noticed that the gesture he made was quite blatantly similar to the gesture commonly used to trigger a string of deletion code.  
  
"Anyway. The girl. She could be massively useful to you. If I were you, I'd look into it, hey? I mean, she noticed you in the center of your power. She noticed ME. NOBODY notices me, EVER. So I checked out her files, hey? And she's got this rather unique Mainframe connection. Not so unique as to be really anomalous, but unique enough to make for a rather interesting experiment, you know?"  
  
The Debugger was silent for a moment. "That's all?"  
  
"Yeah. That's about it."  
  
"You came here to tell me that." The Debuggers voice was flat. "Just that. That's it? Nothing more?"  
  
AGENT shrugged. "Hey, being a force of complete and utter chaos isn't all it's cracked up to be. Besides, a couple Rebels pissed me off and I want do see if I can frustrate them by helping you."  
  
"You're insane."  
  
"But honest."  
  
"Right. So you're doing contract work now?"  
  
"Of course not. You can't just pay me off and get good quality AGENTtech. I can make anything on the black market, and better anyway."  
  
"Lovely. Now go away?"  
  
AGENT stretched. "I don't know. Will you take my advice? 'Cause that girl could be so much more valuable to you than she would be to the resistance."  
  
"Would the resistance take her?" The Debugger opened Della's files and read them in his mind as he talked with AGENT. "With her connection to the Mainframe disconnection might kill her or leave her a vegetable."  
  
"A couple captains would risk it." AGENT counted off on his fingers. "Morpheus, he takes out anyone he can get. Kita might risk it; she's crazy enough. Zero only takes them if you show overt interest in them, and Winter would probably take her out, that just seems her style."  
  
"Not Winter. Winter retired." The Debugger opened another file, this one on the hovercraft called the Firebird. "New captain. Named Seven."  
  
AGENT made a face. "Great. When did THIS happen?"  
  
"About 4 years ago, Human estimation."  
  
"Where was I? What was I doing?"  
  
"Pissing me off."  
  
"Oh, THAT'S descriptive. When am I not?"  
  
"When you stay out of my workspace."  
  
"I'm not usually IN your workspace."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"No."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"No."  
  
"Could you POSSIBLY be more annoying?!"  
  
"I could try."  
  
"By the Architect..." The Debugger rolled his eyes. "I'll consider your advice. Now go away. PLEASE."  
  
AGENT finally stood up and bowed, his dark eyes glittering with dark amusement. He bowed to the Debugger. "I shall respect your wishes, oh master programmer." He began to walk away, stopped, and turned back. "I'd like to keep in contact. Would you mind if I placed an rDrone in here? I wouldn't use it directly, it would just report back every once in a while, hey?"  
  
The Debugger sighed. "AGENT."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Looking up at the other program, the omnipotent Debugger waved a hand lazily. "Delete."  
  
AGENT popped out of existence, though the Debuggers satisfaction at catching the chaos program unawares only barely made up for the feeling of emptiness that deleting sentient programs always caused. 


	5. Shoulda taken the last left back there

Chapter 5: New Horizons  
  
"I'm thinking of something."  
  
"Cookies?"  
  
"Nah. More like coffee. Who's up for a mocha?"  
  
"Potato."  
  
"You want a potato?"  
  
"No. I want to SAY potato."  
  
"Free country."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"Since I said so, punk-ass-bitch! That's redundant, did you know?"  
  
"I believe you have told us that many numbers of times."  
  
The trio of teenagers made their way through the Columbia Mall, dragging Della away from Chesapeake Knife and Tool. She complained about this for a while, arguing that they should not be allowed to deprive her of the sight of things that shine and glitter. They informed her casually that she was insane. She demanded Jaydeb give her a piggy-back-ride as a form of apology while Mike began recounting the advantages of MacOSX over Windows.  
  
From her place on Jaydeb's back, listening to her friends ramble about things she could only barely make herself care about, Della began to realize just how good life was. This was it. This was the proverbial "good life," she had good friends, a good job, an "older brother" who was willing to sacrifice a certain amount of personal dignity for her, and, as far as she could see, there was nothing to take this away from her.  
  
Yes. Life was good.  
  
"Della?" Mike was looking up at her. "You awake up there?"  
  
She jerked slightly, almost upsetting her balance. "What? Oh, right. Yes. Hm. Awake. Yeah. Put me down now, okay?"  
  
She hopped off Jaydeb's back, and then threw an arm around Mike's shoulders. "Know what? We should go see a movie tonight."  
  
Mike agreed. "What, though?"  
  
"What's out at the moment?"  
  
"Probably nothing worth watching." Della watched a child throw a fit because it couldn't go on the merry-go-round a second time. "There's a huge movie conspiracy. Whenever you have too much time on your hands and want to see a movie, there's never anything worth watching. So you numb your brain on craptacular stuff like "Dickie Roberts, Child Star" and you're more susceptible to the mind control forced on you by... THEY."  
  
"What are you babbling about now?"  
  
"THEY!" She looked at them like they were the crazy ones. "Don't you know about THEY? Teachers Hating Extracurricular Youngsters! They're after us! And only Art Services can stop them!"  
  
"And how exactly does AS plan to stop THEY?" Asked Jaydeb, obviously highly amused.  
  
Della made a dramatic gesture in the air with one hand. "Oh, think about it. We have access to the exact-o knives, the duct tape, electrical tape, staple guns, and staple removers. We are possibly the most well armed club in the entire school. I think we can handle THEY, THOSE, and THEM."  
  
Mike glanced at her. "And who are THOSE and THEM?"  
  
"Three Hamsters Of Satanic Enterprises and The Heart of Evil Mice."  
  
"So rodents are evil?"  
  
"They are THE evil."  
  
"As opposed to..."  
  
"....your mother."  
  
Mike gave her a funny look and Jaydeb dropped her rather unceremoniously on a rock. Della started singing in German to annoy them, which didn't succeed. Out of the corner of one eye, Della saw a few men in black suits appear out of nowhere and sit down on a nearby bench. She ignored them.  
  
"C'mon." Said Jaydeb. "There's my mom's car."  
  
Theta woke up.  
  
Being debugged always made him feel fresh, relaxed, rather like a cool shower after a marathon. Being upgraded, on the other hand, felt like a sudden jolt of adrenaline on top of a sugar high.  
  
"It affects different programs differently, you know." The Debugger swiveled his chair around to look at Theta, who was lying on his back on a slab, a small jack in his spine where his earpiece normally connected. The jack was connected to a small interface, which displayed sections of the Agent's code.  
  
"Yeah." Theta didn't bother sitting up, knowing that the jack would hurt like a bitch if he tried to disconnect before the Debugger said he could. "Kirke always told me it felt like leaping off the edge of a building after a Rebel, then suddenly finding out that he could fly. Beta and Epsilon say it feels warm, and Davies... well, Davies doesn't say much of anything."  
  
The Debugger examined a new block of Theta's code. "Hmm. You've still got your endless save slots, I see."  
  
"Naturally. You aren't going to delete them, are you?" If Theta felt at all nervous about seeing his code on display, it didn't show. "I like them. They're all useful and stuff."  
  
"If I was going to delete them, you'd still be under, now wouldn't you?" The program looked back to its interface. "I'm just making sure everything's in order here."  
  
"Alles ist in ordnung, Herr Kapitan!"  
  
"...Bilingual much?"  
  
"All the goddamn time."  
  
The Debugger removed the jack, handed Theta his earpiece, and gestured to the door. "You're free to go. I've got to upgrade Kirke now."  
  
"And then Davies, right?"  
  
"Nope. Davies has been done."  
  
Theta cocked his head to the side in an amazingly non-Agent-like fashion. "No way. I've got an internal clock, you know. It takes you a quarter cycle to properly upgrade an Oldschool Agent... half a cycle for a Newstyle. I came in here three quarters of a cycle ago. You couldn't have upgraded Davies in that amount of time."  
  
"The logs say he was upgraded, Theta." The Debugger gave him a look. "The logs don't lie."  
  
"Care to plug me back in and check my clock then?"  
  
"I'd care for you to get the hell out of my workstation! I've NOT been having a good day, and you wouldn't like me to start deleting sections of your anatomy, now would you?"  
  
Theta left quickly, leaving the Debugger to smirk and reflect on the wonders that could be worked through the threat of emasculation.  
  
AGENT was annoyed. There were Agents dogging his project, the latest Nightmare from the God of Dreams. All she was doing was squelching at passers by from her alleyway... not hurting anyone! Her name was Melanie and she had a squid's head.  
  
He'd been influenced by the illithids he saw in a Dungeons & Dragons book that he had the good fortune to steal from a fifteen year old with bad acne.  
  
Melanie the Squidie ducked behind a dumpster and pulled up her hood, trying to conceal her tentacles from the Agents' view. It worked for a while, but her obviously deviant code wouldn't stay hidden for long.  
  
Although he didn't really want to pick a fight with the Agents, AGENT decided it would probably be best if he intervened on the behalf of his creation.  
  
He walked up to the squid-headed girl. "Melanie."  
  
"My lord," she squelched. "My lord AGENT. Are you here to assist me?"  
  
"Yes. Go home, Melanie."  
  
There was a glimmer of fear in her large, fluid eyes. "Is my design so flawed that you must recreate me?"  
  
"Not you darling, don't worry." He gripped her shoulder. "Just your hoodie. Now, go back to the Firewall."  
  
She hesitated. "There are Agents, my lord..."  
  
"I know." His face broke out into his nearly trademarked manic grin. "Don't worry, Mel. Just go."  
  
Reassured, Melanie began to run. Eventually she would find a small woodshed, which she would enter to find herself within the Firewall, AGENT's personal world.  
  
Alone in the alley, AGENT's grin grew wider.  
  
"...It's been so long." He whispered, knowing the leader Agent would be able to hear him. "...It's been so long since I've fought one of you. Even longer since I've killed one."  
  
The Agents were still technically out of earshot, and so didn't waste their energy forming verbal responses. Instead they radiated hostility at him over a free channel.  
  
"What's wrong?" Taunted AGENT. "Cat got your tongues?"  
  
He laughed out loud when he heard two yells, one from an Agent and one from an enraged feline who suddenly decided that the Agent's hair was harboring WMD's and chose to launch a preemptive strike.  
  
Gunshots.  
  
"Wasting ammunition on a cat now? My, my, how you've fallen..."  
  
There was a time when Agents would rise to taunts from the renegade program, a time when AGENT wasn't well known. Even now, some Agents would be foolish enough to speak back to him before discharging their weapons, young programs who despite the shared memory of their kind contained some small amount of the impetuousness of human youth.  
  
These were old Agents. Old and cranky Agents who didn't appreciate AGENT's trick with the cat. They shot him as soon as they turned the corner.  
  
AGENT hit the ground, cold and lifeless.  
  
One Agent looked down at the body. "What is it?"  
  
"An anomaly." The combat Agent of the trio was dismissive. "Nothing to have worried abou-"  
  
The Agents froze. A shadow fell over them.  
  
A seven-foot-tall being flashed them a manic grin. Its voice was deep, and pitched with amusement. "No. Nothing at all."  
  
An inhuman scream.... then silence.  
  
An abnormally tall man shuffled out of the alley, hunched over and whispering promises to himself.  
  
Agents Roscoe, Black, and Orion failed to meet their next upgrade appointment.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, a confusing chapter. Restarting a story after a year- long hiatus is... difficult. Especially as I'm no longer dating the guy who got me into the Matrix in the first place... but I liked the characters so I came back to it. So, here I am again, with another assurance that, although this is a Self-Inclusion, it will try not to become all Mary-Sue-ish. THERE WILL BE ANGST. I'm gonna tell you that right now, 'cause it IS self- inclusion and I AM a teenager and I DO angst a lot. I will try to keep the insufferability levels down, of course, and angst will appear only when I decide there's a damn good reason. Mmkay?  
  
ALSO: Reviews are nice. I'm doing this for ME mainly, because I like it, and reviews or lack thereof will not affect my writing of this story. But still... I like them. It's nice to know that my stories get read. So even if it's "hi I read your story" it's appreciated. Constructive criticism is helpful, and flames... well, I'll roast as I deserve.  
  
ANOTHER NOTE: One cycle is about eight hours. Why? Because a while ago Mike said that 1000 cycles was about thirty days. I worked it out from there. If someone wants to correct my math, sure, but my cycle length is gonna stay the same, just because.  
  
This is a damn long author's note. 


	6. And then the duck said

Chapter 6: Confusion

"Hey brother."

The Debugger looked up from a dice game. "Delete."

AGENT walked back in the shop. "That wasn't very nice."

"Delete."

AGENT walked back in the shop. "I'm getting tired of this. I only have so many drones available, you know."

"I know. So DELETE goddamn it!"

AGENT deflected the burst of code instead of absorbing it, as he normally would have done. "What've I done?"

The Debugger buried his face in his hands. "Architect help me… I can't deal with psychos anymore!"

AGENT took a seat. "What happened?"

"I had to inform Theta, Kirke and Davies of their new function." The Debugger took off his glasses. "They reacted EXACTLY as I suspected they would. Even WITH the "fate-acceptance" protocols I hit them up with while they were under."

"Lemme guess. Theta yelled. Kirke glowered. And Davies just looked at you silently with those creepy eyes of his."

"I hate you because you think you know everything."

"I DO know everything." AGENT picked up a D20 from the bin next to the Debugger's station. "I noticed you haven't deleted me again yet."

"I'm tired and it takes effort."

"I could fix that."

"Stay out of my code you son-of-a-bitch or I'll rip apart your firewall and bring the Guardians down on your head."

AGENT wisely became silent. The Debugger threw his glasses down on the table and glowered.

"This is all your fault."

The renegade program didn't try to deny it. "It's a good idea, and you know it."

"That's why I'm mad. You're not supposed to have good ideas. You're fucking insane." He took the D20 from AGENT and rolled it a few times for something to do with his hands.

Watching the die, AGENT began altering its colors, turning it from plain white and black to a lovely opalescent purple. Normally the Debugger would have found this infuriating, but the color changes were slow and subtle and seemed to soothe him. AGENT prided himself on his alliterative thoughts. "Is it working?"

"We'll find out soon. They're on their first mission now."

"Awesome."

"If you cause trouble for them..."

"I won't, I swear." AGENT stood. "I'll be going now. You look like you need some serious downtime."

The Debugger looked startled. AGENT had never shown any form of understanding for him before. "...Thank you?"

His "brother" smiled and walked out of the shop.

The black sedan slithered through traffic, guided by Agent Davies's expert hands. The silence filling the vehicle was tense, resting heavy in the air like the smoke from Theta's cigarettes.

"Fuck."

This from Kirke, the Oldschool combat Agent.

"Fucking A'."

This from Theta, the Newstyle leader Agent.

A grimace from Davies, the silent driver.

"How long will it be?" Kirke asked, his voice seeming unnaturally loud. His new partners made him nervous. Theta was disturbingly powerful and Davies was just......... disturbing.

Theta took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. "Unless it shifts again, we'll be entering the Anomaly in approximately three minutes."

The car swung onto the exit ramp, a minute discrepancy in Davies' usually impeccable driving communicated his feelings about the matter.

"I don't like it." Kirke growled. "I don't like it."

"None of us do." Theta put out what was left of his cigarette and lit another one. "It's not nice to be thought of as expendable. Unappreciated."

"Buggy." Summed up Kirke. "A bunch of glitches, us."

"Speak for yourself, Kirke. My records clean as a whistle." Theta took another pull from the cigarette. "Cleaner maybe."

All three Agents went silent at once as they entered the Anomaly.

Contact with the Mainframe went dead immediately.

Davies shuddered so hard that his car almost careened into the concrete barriers at the roadside.

Kirke swore under his breath, clutching his ribcage as if he'd taken a sledgehammer to the chest.

Theta went white and dropped his cigarette.

"...Fucking hell." Whispered Davies. "Fucking... fucking bloody hell."

Della wrote poetry when she was bored.

It never was very good, but she told herself that in a few years she would look back on them and revise them into something beautiful.

Wishful thinking.

_She lives within:_

_A world of glass and artifice._

_Hands brushing windows into new realms,_

_Seeing the sane_

_The ordinary._

She appreciated the use of forms, but became frustrated with them quickly. Her free verse, while not masterful, seemed more honest to her than her form poetry.

She lives without:

A world of mass and matter.

Fingers light-tapping a window into herself,

Seeking the exotic

The bizarre.

I wouldn't mind a little bizarreositude around here at times. Della looked up at the ceiling. Suburban Maryland is a little TOO, if you know what I mean.

Della Roberts was the average teenage girl. She was 5'5" and weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of 120 pounds. Short blond hair curved around a round face with a weakish chin, a slender, pointed nose, and blue-green eyes. A modest scattering of freckles graced her cheeks during the summer, and she was seeing a dermatologist about her acne. She wrote poetry and short skits in her free time. She sang well, but was too lazy to take lessons, and her complete inability to dance kept her out of school musicals.

She was also an avid science fiction fan, which explained her taste for hanging out with geeks like Jaydeb and Mike.

She stood and paced, mumbling possible lines of dialogue for a story she wanted to write. Her hands fluttered restlessly.

"I need air." She said with a certain amount of finality, cutting off the imaginary conversation. "I need something to do." It struck her that a walk around Centennial Lake would be a wonderful occupation for a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of summer vacation.

She grabbed a bottle of water to keep the worst of the heat at bay, left a note for her sister, and set out.

"Smoke him out." Hissed Kirke, a manic glint in his eye. "Smoke the son of a glitch out."

"Not yet." Theta's alabaster skin was flushed with the stress of performing without Mainframe assistance. Physically, it wasn't difficult. The strain was in his mind.

They were tracking down a renegade Agent, previously designated Agent Robertson. The experimental Gamma units had chased him into the Anomaly, but the female Agents were considered vastly too unstable to risk continuing the chase. Robertson was considered extremely dangerous and they were to shoot to kill before asking questions.

Unfortunately, Robertson was intelligent enough to hide in the residential districts. Theta cursed under his breath. Normally the high population would be to their benefit, but denied of their ability to Jump, the Agents were forced to remain as hidden as possible.

"This place is so close to Wizards." Murmured Theta. "How is the Anomaly so strong?"

Davies lifted a hand off of the steering wheel, a gentle shrug. His blue-blue eyes scanned the area for a parking space. Kirke shivered involuntarily as those eyes passed over him.

They managed to remain inconspicuous through most of their search. Robertson was always kept in sight, but the frustrating presence of suburban children prevented them from just shooting the bastard.

"He's going to the lake." Theta sped up, his long legs covering the ground easily. Davies and Kirke started jogging alongside him. He reflected that they might enjoy the exercise had they not been forced into the Anomaly.

Robertson started sprinting as soon as he hit the paved path around Centennial Lake.

His pursuers followed suit before they could even think about it, their combat programming overriding conscious thought. They became blurs of white and black death.

Theta got to Robertson first, a knife sliced through the place where Robertson's throat had been a microsecond before.

The rogue dodged a second knife, three bullets from Kirke's gun, and tripped over a terrified girl on the path. She screamed, an earsplitting, inhuman sound, and attempted

to kick her way out of the battle.

She managed to get clear seconds before Robertson drew his gun on the Agents.

_Bang._

Damn, that's loud. She covered her ears, remembering for some ungodly reason that a gunshot like that can cause instant damage to the ears. Other places as well. She screamed again as one of the men fell on top of her. Oh god I don't wanna die...Oh Jesus!

Another gunshot. The man was shouting something at her, trying to tell her something. He wanted her to run.

Another gunshot. He stopped shouting and started shooting back.

"RUN, YOU STUPID BATTERY!"

She started running as fast as she could away from the fight. The sound of gunshots followed her, but none of the bullets were meant for her. Della stopped by a tree to catch her breath, the battle now well out of sight.

...What....what in the hell were they?

She sank to the ground, hands covering her mouth. They wore suits. CIA? FBI? NSA? KGB? None of those sounded at all promising. Why would government agents be in Howard County, Maryland of all places?

Then again... if you were on the run from THE MAN, you'd go to a completely nondescript place too, wouldn't you? Yeah, I thought so.

The gunshots stopped and another, masculine scream split the air.

Ofuck

AN: And that's the end of chapter six, folks! I've actually got things worked out now, how things are going to go for our dear Agents and our not-quite-a-Mary-Sue. Merry Christmas!


End file.
